Fate and Sacrifice
by Katara71
Summary: What is it, the difference between fate and sacrifice? Are we always destined or do we have a choice? Only Lin can decide.


**_Nightmares come and go as you age but memories can haunt you forever. – Katara71_**

* * *

For the second time that night Lin found herself wet, cold, and shivering like a newborn lemur kit. Her breath came in controlled even intervals yet, she couldn't stop trembling as her mind transitioned into the waking reality that was Republic City.

Split between two worlds unable to move, unable to focus, unable to disappear, all Lin could do was watch wide eyed as the remnants of faces and places blended into the shadows of her bedroom ceiling. The memory was strong so what felt like hours of displacement really only took minutes to pass.

But during those fleeting minutes, the texture of her skin, the air entering and leaving her lungs, the muscles of her back, arms, and legs, everything, felt raw and wrong. Her ears still rang with their voices and not even the car's passing below could drown out the opera of screaming, taunting and whispering that echoed deep into her soul. It was enough to drive one to insanity and tears.

Yet, Lin never whimpered or called for another to save her. She endured and waited using the contractions of her throat to mark each moment lost.

By count fourteen she moved a hand to her face and released a slow shuddering exhale. Chilled fingers skimmed her skin tracing the double indentions upon cheek and jaw before cupping air dried lips.

_It's over._

The realization brought relief in hope and disappointment in relief. It made the elder wince and push her dream weary body to sit up like a proper soldier, muscles taut with both hands resting on her bare knees. In this position she couldn't and wouldn't shake. She was stable and strong.

_All right.._

She took a cleansing breath and mentally willed her heart to calm.

_All right…_

Green eyes slipped closed plunging her back into a world without light.

She could see the fragments lingering like restless spirits.

Men, women, ropes, rags, bars, chains, fire, flowers-

_Enough!_

Her eyes snapped back open reflecting things that could never be spoken of. At their cores, a war began with a battle that was as old as she was young and possibly time itself. How easy it would be to-

_NO!_

The left hand abandoned its perch and draped itself over her forehead embracing the collision of hot and cold.

_..enough..._

The right hand flew out blindly grasping for something at her side. Further back it reached drifting over the nightstand before smacking into a hard, smooth surface. Pressing flat against the curved side it barely took seconds for three fingers to wrap around a thin neck.

_...enough..._

She dragged the stout bottle over wood, cushion, cloth and skin before finally raising it to her lips. The union between tongue and concoction was bitter sweet as the opaque liquid drizzled down her throat. Each pull made the eyes water and fingers tighten about its neck but restraint had not died so emerald glass remained intact throughout the draining.

There was no stop or end just emptiness followed by a quiet yawn.

_Finally_

With the grace of a sinking rock she fell backwards onto her bed instantly finding comfort in the slab of firm mattress. The tension of body melted within seconds of contact and the left hand slid down to block sight.

_Damn_

The bottle rolled over duty worn fingertips and fell to the stone floor below with a faint 'clink', a sound that barley registered to the tired earthbender.

_This has got to stop_

Suddenly all was still and quiet. She could hear her heart beat. Strong and fast yet soft like a lullaby, it promised the hero of airbenders that she was safe here, reminded the ex-cop that she was alone, was proof that Lin Bei Fong was a survivor. Listening to the simple solo of beats gave her something to focus upon as senses became dull and weak.

It was only a matter of time before exhaustion would pull earth's brave granddaughter back into the blessedly numb state of slumber and in those final moments of consciousness she would pray that tomorrow will be better.

_because I can't last another week like this..._

* * *

Music of inspiration - .Hack/Sign, Broken wings

I only own my thoughts.


End file.
